


52

by ravinilla



Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, Existential Angst, Gen, Loneliness, Vent Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravinilla/pseuds/ravinilla
Summary: Wonsik stayed behind to work.





	52

_“Wonsik, go home and see your family. You’re going to be by yourself here.”_

That was alright, Wonsik told Hakyeon, trying to ease the worried creases in his face. VIXX had ended their promotions successfully: three music show wins and high places on charts, their names growing bigger and bigger—what more could they ask for?

While everyone went home for the holidays, a long deserved break after running and running since last year, Wonsik decided to stay back in the dorm, at the company, and work. Not only had it been a busy year for VIXX, but it had been for himself and his own career too; his mixtape, live shows, features …

He tilted his head back onto the leather of his swivel chair and closed his eyes.

It was 3AM.

The others went home to see their friends and family. He wanted to go to, but … He stayed. He wanted to stay—he _needed_ to. Greed had latched its claws deep into his chest and his brain, cultivating its own life inside his body, and he couldn’t always keep it at bay. It wanted him to work and work compulsively, so he would. He did. He was going to release another song at the end of the month.

The only sounds in the room were the faint buzz of his neon _You Only Live Once_ sign and a ticking analog clock. He was alone. It was 3AM.

He wasn’t sure if anyone else was in the building, not even their CEO. The CEO, like the others, told him he should rest, but who had time for that?

His heart clenched. He opened his eyes to look at the ceiling.

_“Are you coming home soon?”_

The faint echos had his nose burning. He wanted to go home.

He often scrolled through SNS during breaks and downtime, reading their fans’ comments and seeing the pictures they shared. Some of them joked, _Does Ravi know what a vacation is?, Ravi works a lot …, Don’t over work yourself!_ They didn’t know though; they didn’t know the overwhelming power and control something like greed had. He always wanted more, he always worked for more. Most days, it was the only thing on his mind.

The door was thick, closed, and only proved to seal him in. Sometimes he wished for a bigger studio—the CEO offered multiple times—but there was something he liked about this space (cramped as it was, freakishly large Sanghyuk would complain). It was his _own._ All of what he had built in here, his own ideas, important parts of VIXX, the company itself—he _forged_ those things, he was such a large part of them, and it happened here in this room.

It was such a small one.

The building was empty. His heart clenched. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, hands hidden in his sleeves. Everyone had gone home, and he was here, alone.

_Alone._

He wasn’t sure if his heart had a cavity to hurt anymore inside of. It was just sort of … empty. A staggering, hollow feeling. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, alone, at 3AM. He sniffled.

If he’d gone home, he knew he might feel the same. He wanted to see them, his family, but the greed would have fought him every step of the way. He wouldn’t have enjoyed himself or rested. He would have used notebooks, create just like he used to before all of this. It was better he stayed.

If he started crying, would anyone hear him? _Was_ there anyone else in existence to hear him?

He was in the middle of nowhere—in the middle of a vast ocean, no land to be seen from any which direction. He would be undiscovered, undetected in the black depths. He was alone.

He worked tirelessly to fill in that loneliness—that even when there wasn’t someone else around, he had _something_ to keep around for himself. He knew this. It was what the greed fed on, nurtured itself with.

He didn’t bother to wipe the tears when they started falling down his face. His chest heaved and he didn’t try to keep quiet. He was in the middle of nowhere, with no one around, with no one to hear him. The air around him—the ocean—would be his witness, absorb his calls and cries, hear his throat run raw as he choked on his own breath, and never speak a word to another living soul about it.

And when he was done, he would just get back to work again.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my [writing Tumblr](http://homoerotixx.tumblr.com/post/150461200052/52). The title is based off the [52-hertz whale,](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/52-hertz_whale) called the world's loneliest whale, and I can't describe to you how utterly sad that makes me.


End file.
